


Angel's kisses

by teamcharm



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Post-Canon, i love them...they are soft and in love, i think this qualifies as fluff, mentions of depression, take a shot every time they kiss. you might die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-29 18:23:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,487
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21414622
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/teamcharm/pseuds/teamcharm
Summary: Marianne wakes up a little too early, with many thoughts on her mind, and observes Sylvain's sleeping figure.
Relationships: Marianne von Edmund/Sylvain Jose Gautier
Comments: 6
Kudos: 67





	Angel's kisses

**Author's Note:**

> Originally this was supposed to be a short idea on the concept of angel kisses (did you know that apparently freckles are called angel's kisses) that's been sitting in my drafts for like a month or two, but well. Oops! Now this is long and this was supposed to be really soft and gentle but instead there is much introspection. Well. at least they still kiss. so there's that.

_ Chirp Chirp. _

She could hear the birds singing outside. 

It was morning, but the sun was not out. It was long before sunrise. 

It was one of those mornings where Marianne woke up a little too early, and could not fall asleep. No matter how much she tried, no matter how much she tightly closed her eyes, no matter how much she would listen to the early birds melody, sleep would not come to her.

The room was covered in a soft blue hue...not exactly pitch black, but not light either. It was far too early for her to be awake. 

Marianne looked up to Sylvain who was beside her. They were no longer tangled up in each other, bodies intertwined, holding one another as they slept. Their limbs were all over the place; Marianne’s head was on Sylvain’s arm (she wondered if the weight of her head bothered him, but she couldn’t ask him), and she was leaning on him. His red hair tickled her skin every time she moved her head a bit.

She remembers that the two of them fell asleep in each other’s arms while whispering sweet nothings to each other. Or at least, that’s the romantic version. In reality, it started out like that at first. Hands intertwined, they talked about what Marianne would like to do while she was here in Faerghus. But then, Sylvain made some sort of offhand joke about bees and Marianne started rambling about the ecology of bees. There were question marks written all over his face, but he intently listened to the words that poured out of her mouth. Marianne was certain for a fact that Sylvain did not understand a single word that she said, but he let her talk anyway. His eyes were focused on her, as if she was the only thing that mattered to him at the moment. 

Though she no longer shied away from conversations how she used to many years ago, she couldn’t help but fear that she never had anything interesting to say to people. Contributing to conversations was fine, but starting a conversation on her own? She just didn’t know what to say. Any semblance of thought left her mind. Marianne may have had a gift for oration, but that did not help the fact that Marianne was a weak conversationalist. How funny that she could deliver the most eloquent and phenomenal speeches, but she couldn’t even start a simple conversation. But Sylvain always told her when she wasn’t sure of herself that he liked hearing her thoughts, even on topics he had little to none interest. Hearing her voice was enough for him. 

And in turn, Marianne listened to him. She loved the way his eyes lit up every time they discussed art, even though Marianne hardly knew much about the topic outside of what Ignatz told her. She loved the way he got excited over literature, and how deep he dug into the narratives. Sometimes Sylvain talked to her about things she didn’t understand, but that was okay. She liked hearing his voice. 

Sometimes the two of them just sat in silence together, their thighs touching and shoulders touching, and that was enough for both. Marianne found comfort in the fact that they didn’t need words to enjoy each other’s presence. It was nice to talk to Sylvain, to hear his voice, his thoughts, but sometimes the quiet silence between the two of them was nice too. It was not awkward, it was not painful, it did not make Marianne scramble to find something to say to him...it was just comfortable.

She looked at their position in Sylvain’s bed… They certainly were not graceful sleepers. Sometimes they would stay in each other’s arms, interlocked, as if afraid to let go of one another during the night. Other times, it wouldn’t be a surprise if one of them (mainly Sylvain) ended up tangled up in the sheets in the most messiest way possible. 

Marianne loved Sylvain very much, but she hated the he unintentionally stole blankets from her midway through the night. What was she supposed to do? Wake him up in the middle of the night by yanking them off from his body? What did he need extra blankets for anyways?! He was always so warm...

Sylvain’s arms was sloppily over her stomach, and she could feel one of his legs sprawled over her much shorter legs. He felt warm against her, a sensation she greatly welcomed...even if his arm was over her stomach in the most uncomfortable way ever. Even if they weren’t embraced, she treasured the warmth that radiated off of him. 

These cold mornings were never kind to Marianne. Even under the thick comforter, and the spare blankets that Sylvain insisted that Marianne should use because he didn’t want her to get sick, and the fact that Marianne’s nightclothes were a lot thicker to what she was used to wearing back home, she still shivered. 

Marianne directed her gaze back to Sylvain.

Sylvain, Sylvain, Sylvain...oh how she wanted to embrace him and be enveloped in warmth. Her hands were freezing. She wanted him to hold her hands, and warm them up. 

But she decided not to disturb his sleep. She knew he needed it. She should get up and maybe get dressed up in something warmer but… she didn’t want to get up. Instead Marianne pulled up the comforter to her face more. 

They never really fully discussed the topic, but both of them knew that their sleeping schedules were not good. Sleep almost felt like a luxury after the war, a luxury that the two of them weren’t adjusted to yet. Even with the war over, it was hard to let go of old scars from the past that haunted them. 

Sometimes they would have nightmares. Sometimes they would not. Sometimes they would comfort one another. Sometimes they would not. Every night was different. But… They were slowly moving forward to the future together, even if it was hard at times. 

Sylvain’s arm was bothering her a bit, so she lifted up the comforter so she could adjust it. As she did so, a chill passed her. “Ooh...c-cold,” she whispered to herself at the loss of warmth, and yanked the comforter back down to her body. Marianne carefully, and slowly as to not wake him up, dragged his arm over so that it was no longer hidden from her view, and placed it on top of the comforter. 

She glanced back at Sylvain, but he did not stir. 

Marianne observed his arm as if it was the most interesting thing in the world. 

But his arm did have much to tell about himself. There were a few faded scars on his arms. She remembers healing the one that went diagonally across his skin. 

She lightly traced the line, her touch feather light. Marianne peaked at Sylvain again, but he did not respond to the slow drag of her fingers. She wondered if he would have laughed, if he was awake. She was being so, so, so careful with her motions...it must have tickled. 

Marianne’s fingers stayed on the scar. It was properly healed now, and left nothing but a white mark on his skin. But the memory of healing him stayed with Marianne. She has healed many wounds for her friends, too many that she could recall, and wanted to remember. Marianne stroked the scar again in thought… She could remember all the times she’s healed Sylvain’s wounds that are now just scars on his body. 

Should a healer remember her patient’s wounds? She didn’t think Linhardt remembered any of this that intently, of all the times he healed Caspar. 

But in a way, healing became a routine between the two. Instead of seeking out Mercedes for medical attention, Sylvain always drifted towards her if he could, and Marianne always went after him. She hated the sight of blood, she hated seeing him covered in blood, but she always healed his wounds. Bloodied hands or not, she always did. 

Looking at all the scars over his body, Marianne wished he cared more about himself. She heard that for some fighters, scars are marks held with high honor. Pride that you won a battle, or pride of the valiant opponent you fought, or pride for surviving a battle. 

But Marianne doubted that was the case for Sylvain. During their time with the resistance army, he got hurt far too much on the battlefield for her liking. For someone who preferred diplomatic means, he fought as if his life depended on it. For all the carefree confidence Sylvain put out to the world, he was also so fragile.

Maybe Marianne didn’t have the right to speak, when she was just as fragile and was slowly putting herself together after years of misery, but she didn’t wish that on anyone else. It was a terribly lonely time. She wanted both of them to heal from their old wounds. That’s the kind of path she wanted both of them to take together. 

But outside of scars, there was also freckles all over his arm.

Marianne once heard that having freckles was a blessing from the Saints...angel’s kisses. 

Sylvain had many. They were all over his body— his face, his chest, his back, his torso, his arms, his legs, his body was littered with them.Her favorite freckle was the one that was inside his palm. It was kind of like a secret, hidden away from most people’s eyes. A sight that was privy mostly for Marianne…unless other people looked at his bare hands as much as she did. 

Marianne held his hand. She could feel the warmth spreading over her cold fingers. Her thumb caressed his fingers. She felt a small indent on his ring finger, and her heart skipped a beat. She knew they were engaged, but thinking about it still gave her butterflies… 

To think that one day, in the distant future, they’re going to end up getting married...it was not a future Marianne saw for herself ever. Her adoptive father always wanted her to find a spouse for the benefit of their house, but she never considered his wishes. Marriage was never in her mind. Why would it be, when she thought she would end up in the arms of the Goddess. But here she was, sleeping next to Sylvain, with promises of a future together.

Marianne almost got teary-eyed thinking about the future. For the longest time she thought she never had a future, that she was just aimlessly walking down a path filled with darkness. There was no light. But she was okay now, she was better now. She had hopes, dreams, desires, friends...things she thought she never could have, things she thought she didn’t deserve, things she actively refused for herself. She’s proud of herself. Proud of living. That felt like an embarrassing thing to pat yourself on the back on, but she did anyways. She was far too cruel to herself as a kid and a teenager.

Marianne gave Sylvain’s fingers a kiss. She placed another kiss inside his palm. “I hope you’re sleeping well…” Marianne whispered to him, but he gave no response to her. Which was fine with her. She did not wish to wake him up just because she wanted to be with him. 

Marianne wondered what he was dreaming about. His face looked so peaceful, even if his red hair was spilling all over his face. She brushed the strands out of his face, and tucked it behind his ears. 

She could finally fully see Sylvain’s face. It was nice to see his brows relaxed, his face looked a little too stressed these past few days. His eyelashes were so long and pretty… she found it a bit embarrassing to admire someone’s eyelashes.

Her fingers trailed down from his ear, to his jaw, to his chin, tracing the outline of his face. 

Marianne glanced at his lips.

She’s never kissed him before when he was sleeping. Marianne was still a bit shy with her affection since this is a completely new territory for her. Though, she looked quite the opposite of that right now, touching him everywhere. Having no experience meant that Marianne made many, many hiccups which gave Sylvain a good laugh (but he always said it was adorable, and part of her charm).  _ She sighed _ , it’s not like she could consult Hilda every time on what she  _ should _ do. 

In thought, Marianne ran her fingers through his hair. His hair felt soft under her touch.

Sylvain let out some sort of mumbled sound. She couldn’t tell if he was enjoying her touch, or if she just woke him up. Her hands froze in place for a second, looking back at his face. But his eyes here still gently closed, and not a word slipped out of his mouth. 

“Hmm…” Marianne placed her hand on his cheek. Even his face felt warm to her freezing hand. She did not understand how he could possibly sleep through all of this. She was trying her hardest to be gentle with her touches, but she was also all over his personal space. If he were to poke her face with just the tips of his fingers, she would be wide awake. “...You’re strange,” she whispered as she leaned down for a kiss. 

Marianne stopped for a second. She was so close to him, centimeters away from his lips. She brushed his cheek with her thumb, thinking more of her actions. Maybe she shouldn’t kiss him, she could kiss him plenty of times when he was awake. But she wanted to.

She decided to be a little selfish, and gave him a quick kiss. She gently placed her lips on top of his. It was a delicate kiss, almost as if she was afraid to wake him up with her light touch.

Marianne pulled away from Sylvain, and observed his sleeping face. A smile was almost tugging at his lips. She couldn’t help but smile, it was really cute. She didn’t think he could react to her like this if he was sleeping. 

“Am I?”

“Huh?” But before she could react to the words, his arm pulled her down back to him. She gasped at the sudden impact; Marianne almost bumped into Sylvain’s forehead.

And they were kissing again. She relaxed a little more under his touch, and returned his kiss.

Once Sylvain pulled away she asked him, “Did I wake you up?” Her voice was quiet. Marianne felt a little guilty if she woke him up just because she wanted to kiss him. It was still early in the morning, and she wouldn’t be awake right now if she could go back to sleep. But sleep evaded her. 

“...No,” Sylvain’s voice sounded groggy. “Maybe a little bit...I don’t care...come back.” His hands itched for more Marianne, more of her, more of her love. He sloppily kissed her mouth, she giggled against his lips. He was so eager to touch her, even when barely awake.

“Good morning, love,” he whispered into her ear. It sent a shiver down her spine. His sleepy voice was surprisingly deep.

“Morning…” Marianne quietly repeated. It was a quiet morning. You could not hear the winds of Faerghus, or rain sweeping through Fodlan. Only an occasional chirp from birds could be heard outside.

Marianne embraced him, wrapping her arms around his neck, craving his warmth.

Sylvain was always so warm. It was like he was her own personal fireplace...which was not the most romantic description of a person ever. But he made her feel warm, literally and metaphorically. She could never admit such a thought to him out loud though, too embarrassing. Even if she disguised it as some sort of poetry, some thoughts are better left unsaid. She’d rather tell him that she appreciates him instead of telling him that he reminds her of a fireplace. 

Marianne looked to the window. The room was no longer blue, and the sun rays were slowly creeping through from the window. The warm sun lit up the room in an orange glow. 

“The sun is rising,” she thought aloud. Marianne must have spent an embarrassingly long amount of time staring at Sylvain’s sleeping figure if the sun was starting to rise.

“Have you been awake for a long time?” he asked Marianne, rubbing her back. She let out a satisfied hum.

“No…” Though she wasn’t sure. The song of the birds woke her up, bit it could not lull her back to sleep. The only time of reference she had was that she woke up when it was still dark. If she had to guess, at least thirty minutes have passed. 

“Sorry that I didn’t keep you company,” Sylvain apologized. He must think she had a nightmare if she’s awake this early. Sometimes her nightmares shook her up if they had to do with her...trauma. Other times it did not. 

Sylvain usually let her sleep in if he woke up first. She knew that because there were a few times when he had to leave while she was still in bed, so he would kiss her goodbye. Because Marianne is such a light sleeper, his kisses would always wake her up. Sometimes she even thought that his kisses were part of her dreams that she was having. One time, thinking that she was still inside her dream, Marianne told him to buy flour after separating from their kiss. 

“No it’s alright...I didn’t have a nightmare,” Marianne reassured him. “I just woke up,” maybe that part was a bit of a lie, “I’m sorry for waking you up...you need sleep as much as I do.” 

“But why sleep when I’m already dreaming when looking at you,” he replies huskily. 

“Sylvain, really?” Marianne deadpanned.

But this was nothing out of the ordinary. He kind of liked showering her with compliments, even if it was more out of force of habit. Sylvain always used pretty, flowery language, even when they started going out together. But she knew he wasn’t lying to her, she could tell by the way he looked at her. Even if the words that came out of his mouth were a bit too much for her sometimes, Marianne knew he was being sincere with her. 

Marianne has a hard time catching when someone was flirting with her in roundabout ways. Every time Sylvain did that, she would just tilt her head in confusion. She remembers the time they were still crushing on each other, and he tried to flirt with her involving dandelions, and it completely went over her head. Marianne chuckled to herself. 

“Hey, what’s so funny?” Sylvain poked her smile. “I thought that was good.”

Marianne began “I was thinking,” but Sylvain had other ideas in mind. He planted soft kisses on her cheek, on her nose, “about when,” he continues kissing her further down and she laughs, “you— Sylvain,” she laughs more as he places kisses on her neck, “stop— you...you know I’m sensitive,” Marianne whined under her laughs but she didn’t push him away from her. 

He placed another kiss on her shoulder before he stopped. “Thinking about what?”

“Remember the time we were plucking out weeds, and you called me a dandelion.” Marianne’s hands absentmindedly went to Sylvain’s hair. She stroked his head. His hair was so fluffy...

“Oh ouch...you didn’t need to remind me of that,” Sylvain seemed to be disappointed to be reminded of his failed wooing moments. Marianne kind of found it funny, to think that he tried so hard with her (when she didn’t think he was all that interested in her) but everything went over her head. 

“...It’s oddly endearing to think about...I think I’d get it this time,” Marianne patted his head in reassurance. She wasn’t exactly the kind of person who fell for pickup lines, but sometimes she liked seeing Sylvain fumble with her when it came to flirting. It was oddly endearing. It made her feel excited to think that she could make Sylvain flustered and nervous. 

“I wouldn’t compare you to a dandelion though,” Sylvain told her.

“...What would you compare me to then?” Marianne asked him out of curiosity. 

“Tulips.”

“Why tulips.”

“There’s sunshine in your smile.”

“Oh!” 

She recognized this. Sometimes Sylvain would buy her yellow tulips. Sometimes she would buy him yellow tulips. In a way, it became a thing between the two— to gift each other yellow tulips. When Marianne arrived for a surprise visit, in her arms she held a bouquet of yellow tulips for him. 

She removed her hands from his head, and dragged them down to cup his face. “You’re sweet,” she told him as she closed the distance between the two of them. “Too sweet…”

Once Marianne broke away from him, her hands lingered a little longer on his face. Her fingers traced the freckles on his cheeks. Her touch was feather light. Sylvain just watched her. 

“You know,” her index finger swooped a line oh so gently across his cheek, “some call freckles angel’s kisses. They say that if you have freckles you’ve been kissed by an angel. The Goddess must love you,” Marianne remarked.

“Huh,” he hummed in thought. “Must be true then. An angel is currently kissing me,” Sylvain replied to her smoothly. His expression was soft. 

“S-Sylvain,” her face reddened a bit. To be compared to an angel of the Goddess? She couldn’t imagine such a heavy comparison. “...Goodness,” Marianne whispered to herself. An angel? She didn’t feel like one. 

“I’m just speaking the truth,” his voice was so soft, and her heart skipped a beat. Was this even allowed? Is this blasphemy? Is she sinning listening to him?

“Y-you’re awful,” Marianne turned her head away from him, feeling shy.

“The church can-” she placed her hands over his mouth. She couldn’t bear to listen to him talk more. “S-stop talking! T-this is embarrassing…” Marianne stuttered over her words. She felt more embarrassed the longer her talked. 

He licked her hand.

“Eww...Sylvain...!” She released her hands from his mouth. Disgusting.

“Sorry Marianne,” he gave her an apology, but there was an expression of amusement on his face. That expression fell as soon as she wiped her saliva stained hands on his shoulder. “On me? Really Marianne?”

“This is what you deserve! I-I was trying to compliment you and you…” she exclaimed. Her ears still burned from his words. 

“Okay, compliment me love,” Sylvain told her. 

Her mind blanked on what she wanted to say originally. His face softened up when she looked back at him. He waited patiently to hear what she wanted to say, but she got a little lost in his brown eyes. “Um...you have nice eyes,” is all Marianne managed to get out of her mouth. That was not what she meant to say. 

He chuckled. “You have nice eyes too, Marianne.”

She sighed...she was not good at this sort of thing. “Sylvain, stop poking fun at me! I’m trying to be nice to you...”

“I’m not. It’s cute. You’re cute.”

“What am I supposed to do with you Sylvain?”

“Love me,” Sylvain answered. “I am your fiance,” he took her hand, “and you’ll be my lovely wife someday.”

“Wife...” Marianne said aloud, a little wonder struck. Sometimes she is awed over the fact that the two of them were engaged.

He brushed his thumb over her ring finger. Currently it was missing a ring. “I can’t wait to get married,” Sylvain told her. He gave her knuckles a gentle kiss. 

“Me too,” Marianne admitted with a smile. They were far too busy with other matters right now to get married… But one day, when they get married, she is excited for that day to come. 

Marianne did not think she got many blessings from the Goddess, but maybe…maybe meeting Sylvain was one of the blessings. Of course, their relationship was rocky at first. He met her at one of the worst periods of her life. They both had their hardships. They were constantly pushing people away yet...they somehow fell in love with one another. She never imagined that the guy who told her to smile over cheese would be the one she’d marry someday. 

She ran her hand up his arm. He had so many freckles... if a Saint blessed him, she thinks it’s Indech. Terrible with interacting with people, yet a kindness lurks beneath. Never afraid to help those in need, even if he endangers himself. Always thinking of others, yet never allowing himself to think of himself. 

Marianne frowned. 

Would it be blasphemy to compare a Saint to a person? Especially in such an intimate setting? She didn’t know...so she kept her thoughts to herself. Marianne quickly issued an apology to the Goddess and Indech if that’s the case. 

“What’s wrong love?” his voice broke her out of her own thoughts. 

Marianne held Sylvain’s face in her hands so that he was directly looking at her. “You know I care about you, right?”

“Yes?” Sylvain confirmed, but his voice held nothing but a question. He looked confused at the sudden change of topic.

She relaxed a little bit. “Good. Just making sure...” Marianne removed her hands from his face and placed them on his shoulders. “...I care about you so much,” she looked down and whispered the words as if they were only meant for his ears.

Sylvain used his hand to tilt Marianne’s chin up so that she’s looking at him. “Marianne?”

“Yes?”

“I care about you a lot too.”

He brushed his thumb across her lips. 

“In fact I…” Sylvain hesitated for a moment. “I love you. I love you so much. I love you Marianne.”

“...I love you too,” Marianne leaned into his touch.

She remembered their first kiss. It was an awkward experience for the both of them, regardless of what Sylvain tells her. Marianne wanted to kiss him so badly that she was way off the mark, and caused his nose to bleed. She felt really embarrassed and bad about it, but Sylvain brushed it off saying she didn’t break his nose at least. He also said this would be a very fun story to tell, in which she whined and told him to never tell anyone about this. Marianne will forever be embarrassed by this. 

After many, many kisses, Marianne pulled away from his touch once he started kissing her neck. 

“...Sylvain, we should get up,” she told him, a little out of breath. 

“Is it not enough to stay in bed with the love of my life,” he batted his eyes at her innocently. 

Her heart, ugh. Marianne sighed, but she showed no signs of getting up. She may have no longer kissed him, but her arms stayed wrapped around his body. She liked hugging him. “You have a meeting today!” she reminded him. 

“You’re not getting up are you hmmm.” Sylvain ran his hand down her back. “What am I supposed to do Marianne?” he asked her. 

“You’re warm,” she mumbled into his chest. She’ll get up soon. Marianne just wanted to enjoy his touch a little longer...just a bit longer. 

“Is that all you like me for?” He teased her. 

“Mmmm.” Marianne closed her eyes and listened to his heart beat. Sylvain placed his hands under her shirt, and touched her bare skin. “OOOoohhh,” she yelped out in surprise at the unexpected sensation. “...warm.” His hands were warm. 

“You okay Marianne?” Sylvain asked concerned. “You’re cold. Are you sick?”

“I’m just cold...don’t worry.” Though whenever she told that to Sylvain, his face showed nothing but worry for her. “Please don’t give me five blankets again. I couldn’t breathe the last time you did...really, I’m just cold,” Marianne reassured him. 

“Okay, maybe I overdid it that time,” he admitted. “In my defense though, you were running a fever.”

She softly laughed at the memory. “You shouldn’t suffocate the sick…”

“But I still took care of you well though.”

Maybe too well. All she needed was to sleep it off, but he surprised her with breakfast in bed. It was nice, he even remembered that she liked apple preserves on bread, which she mentioned offhandedly to him once.

“Mmm.”

He started rubbing circles into her back. It felt nice. 

They fell back on a silence, but it was not uncomfortable. She listened to the rhythm to the beat of his heard. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Marianne felt tired, she could almost fall asleep listening to his heart. 

“Are you tired?” Sylvain’s voice called out to her.

She blinked her eyes. “Oh um. No.” Did she almost fall asleep on Sylvain? 

“If you want to sleep, sleep Marianne,” Sylvain told her. “Don’t worry about anything. You’re allowed to sleep as much as you want here.”

“If I sleep, it won’t be on you.”

“I don’t mind if you do.” 

“That is very sweet of you dear, but please, your meeting,” Marianne reminded him once again of his obligations. She couldn’t fault him for wanting to spend more time with her...but perhaps she was an awful influence on him. Maybe she should have announced her visit to him in a letter so he was better prepared. 

“I know,” Sylvain conceded. “I’ll be a responsible adult.”

“Good…”

“Oh Marianne, I wish there wasn’t so much to do when you’re around,” Sylvain complained. “You took the time out of your schedule to visit me.”

“It’s alright...it’s kind of my fault for surprising you,” Marianne told him. It was her own fault for barging into his busy, busy schedule... She really was a terrible influence on him. She shifted a bit so she could give him a quick peck on the lips. “It’s...a kiss of good luck...for the meeting,” Marianne told him as she finally pried herself away from Sylvain.

Sylvain laughed. “You’re adorable Marianne…”

She plopped down into her side of the bed, closing her eyes. She didn’t know if she could really sleep, but she felt relaxed now, as if she were floating on clouds. For all the times she couldn’t sleep, or she refused to sleep because of her misery, maybe she should allow herself days where she could sleep in. Where she could dream, dream of things. 

She had much sleep to catch up on from all the years she lost it.

She had no studies to catch up on, no paperwork to fill out right now. It was okay if she slept just a little more. 

Marianne felt something on her lips. She opened her eyes slowly. Sylvain was leaning down, his hair brushing against her face. She sighed against his lips, but her hands made it to his face anyways. He tilted his face a bit so Marianne could kiss him easier.

Sylvain pulled away, but his face lingered for a few seconds, centimeters away from hers. “Just wanted to give you another kiss before I go,” he said gently. She could feel his breath on her face.

“Okay,” she whispered back. Her hands left his face ever so slow.

“I’ll be back in an hour or three, preferably one,” Sylvain told her. She heard him rummaging through his closet. 

“...You know these sort of meetings never run short.” Marianne has been attending the Alliance Roundtable meetings for a few years now. From firsthand experience, she wished that they were nothing but short. Sometimes the meetings felt like nothing got accomplished, just some sort of back and forth yelling between the lords. 

“I know,” he sighed. “But it’s inconveniencing me.”

“Do your duties,” Marianne said. “I came here uninvited after all.”

“You’re never unwelcome here.”

Marianne knew that. But still… maybe it was not the best idea to stage a surprise visit on Sylvain when he was so busy with all sorts of affairs within the Kingdom and his own territory. She’s seen the amount of paperwork there is in the study. She offered to help him out to lighten the load, but Sylvain told her to not worry about out. They should do something more fun than doing paperwork together while she’s here. 

Though...wouldn’t that be good practice for the future? Wouldn’t they have to do paperwork together when they get married? Marianne found the thought funny.

But if he wanted to do something else… she didn’t mind. 

Sylvain like the arts didn’t he… maybe they could see an opera show together. Marianne wished that Dorothea and Enbarr were a little closer to them. It’d be nice to visit some friends...

Or maybe... 

But Sylvain interrupted her thoughts. 

“Sleep well Marianne,” Sylvain kissed her forehead before he left.

Marianne touched her forehead. Even when he was gone, his touch lingered on her skin. 

**Author's Note:**

> As a side note, why did no one tell me that writing intimate (is this even intimate? im not quite sure) romance is so fucking hard…catch me writing more mundane shit next time. Fuck kisses we’re going grocery shopping. The ultimate form of love. 
> 
> Also my conclusion is that...part of this was supposed to be a practice writing kissing but i realized that I actually hate kissing scenes a lot. unfortunate because I want sylvain & marianne to kiss each other a lot. Well. I hope this was enjoyable either way even I didn't go in detail.


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